A Whole New Meaning Of Schizophrenia
by PsychoBabe313
Summary: There’s a bunch of different kinds of Harrys out there. There’s druggie!Harry, gay!Harry, emo!Harry, gansta!Harry, evil!Harry. Heck, they even have girl!Harry! So what happens when all these Harrys appear in one fic? Mass destruction. Lots of OOCness!
1. Pouty Potter

Today is not Harry's day. Nope. But then again, what day _is_ Harry's day? He always has a demented, ugly, hypocritical, lame excuse for a human being trying to kill him, plus a rather sexy (although you'll never hear him admit that), aristocratic, little snot who keeps trying to jinx him, and on top of all that, Snape had forced him to drink a potion.

At first, Harry wasn't worried. They had been making very innocent growth potions. Not something to worry about, right? Plus, he always did want to grow those extra few inches.

Though, it was only until after Harry had swallowed the potion that Snape revealed who had made the potion. I'll give you a hint. It starts with 'N' and ends in 'eville'. Harry almost fainted.

But alas, it was too late. So Harry was stuck in the hot and humid Great Hall, sick to his stomach and feeling like his head was about to explode, praying to Merlin that this was only a side effect of the potion, and that nothing else was wrong with him. (I mean, besides the obvious.)

"Oi!" Ron shouted, showering Harry with bits of peach cobbler. "You alright there, mate?"

"I just down a whole vial of potentially dangerous poison. Do you think I'm alright?" Harry shot back, pouting pitifully.

A look of horror immediately crossed his face. "D- D- Did I just-" he stuttered.

A similar look of horror spread over half of the Gryffindor table. Harry Potter just pouted. _Pouted._

The world was coming to an end.

"No. No, I did NOT just pout. Nope, not me!" Harry 'Denial' Potter declared, glancing up and down the table and grinning manically, which only concerned his housemates more.

There was a beat of silence, before Hermione stared at him and asked, "Are you mental?"

Harry ran his hands over his face and through his hair. "I need some sleep."

Ron still had his eyebrows raised so high that they were hidden behind his hair. "Yeah, you do, mate."

So, after Harry finished dinner, which consisted mainly of chocolate pie, chocolate cake, chocolate cookies, chocolate shrimp balls (don't ask), and any other kind of chocolate imaginable, he trudged, feeling very bloated, up the stairs to the dormitory. He didn't bother waiting for his friends.

He reached the boy's dormitory and crawled into his four-poster bed, curling up on his side in pain. Ever since dinner, his stomach was cramping like crazy. Maybe he shouldn't have had all that chocolate. Mmmm… Chocolate… Just thinking about it was making him crave more…

He wriggled around in his bed, trying to get up when he smashed his head into his headboard.

Under normal circumstances he would have spat curses at the damned thing, but these were not normal circumstances. So instead, he burst into tears.

Which is when, Harry could see, it was time for him to go to the infirmary.

So, Harry sat up in a hospital a few minutes later, while Madame Pomfrey 'tut tutted' at him as she poked him in random places with her wand.

"So tell me again what is wrong, Potter?" she asked, jabbed the stick at his knee and muttering a spell that caused a tingly sensation to shoot up his leg and into his stomach.

Harry sniffled. "W-well, my stomach hurts, and my head aches, and I want chocolate, and-

and –" he lowered his voice and whispered, "at dinner today, I _pouted_."

Madame Pomfrey did all that she could do to stifle her gasp.

Harry gingerly touched his chest. "And my chest hurts."

"Your chest?" the nurse asked, prodding it with her wand.

"Ow!" Harry yelped, jerking back.

"Is it your heart, Potter?" Pomfrey asked, frowning.

"No. My _chest_," Harry shot her a look.

"Your lungs, then?"

"No. My chest!" Harry repeated, glaring. He could feel another pout coming on. Oh no.

"Mister Potter! Kindly tell me what hurts, before I decide to leave you in this misery!" Madame Pomfrey shot, frustrated.

"The- The area around my-" he hissed the next word, "_nipples_."

Madame Pomfrey's eyebrows shot way up.

"Your _bre-_" she started, but Harry cut her off with a wail.

"Oh dear. Now, how did this come to happen, Mister Potter?"

Harry hiccoughed pitifully, then shrugged. "Snape force-fed me a potion."

Madame Pomfrey cleared her throat. "A hormone potion?"

"No. It was supposed to be a growth potion," Harry corrected.

"Supposed to be?"

"Neville made it."

"Oh dear," Madame Pomfrey repeated, then placed a hand over her heart.

"Well, what's wrong with me?" Harry asked, eager to be normal again.

The healer resumed prodding him with her wand again, and said, "I'm going to have to do a few more tests, and get Professor Snape down here, but-" she paused to look Harry in the eye, "it appears that you have what we like to call, PMS."


	2. Of Flaming Heads and Teddy Bears

**Chapter Two**

"A week."

"Possibly weeks," Snape corrected, stressing the plural.

"Weeks."

"Yes, Mister Potter. That's right," Snape rolled his eyes at the distressed expression on the boy's face.

"Weeks."

The professor sighed. "Yes, you idiotic boy. Weeks. It's five letters. I'm sure even your miniscule brain can comprehend that."

"Weeks," Harry repeated, staring at the opposite well blankly.

Snape turned to Madame Pomfrey with an uncharacteristically hopeful look on his face. "Can I slap him?!"

Madame Pomfrey shot him a look that plainly said no, but maybe not plainly enough, because Snape took that opportunity to reach out and hit Harry upside the head

Harry shot the professor a reproachful look. "Don't hit me! You know what? It's ALL YOUR FAULT THAT I'M LIKE THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE AND YOU CAN'T EVEN FIGURE OUT HOW TO FIX ME AND IT MIGHT TAKE MORE THAN A WEEK AND I HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS JUST BEUCASE OF YOU! AND NEVILLE! NEVILLE AND HIS STUPID CRAPPY POTION MAKING SKILLS! AND HE LEAVES HIS BOOKS LYING ALL OVER THE DORMITORY SO I HAVE TO TRIP OVER THEM EVERY MORNING AND NOW MY TOE HURTS AND RON LAUGHS AT ME AND I DON'T LIKE IT! I DON'T LIKE IT HOW NOBODY _APPRECIATES_ ME ANY MORE! ALL YOU GUYS WANT IS ME TO SAVE THE BLOODY WORLD! WELL, I'VE GOT NEWS FOR YOU BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO SAVE THE WORLD ANYMORE! ALL I WANT IS SOME PUMPKIN PIE. BUT DOES ANYONE GET ME ANY PUMPKIN PIE ANYMORE? NO. I HAVE TO GET UP AND GET IT MYSELF BECAUSE ALL OF YOU ARE SELFISH! JUST LIKE VOLDEMORT IS SELFISH! ALL OF YOU-" Harry went on screaming like this for a few more minutes, before rounding on Snape and ending with- "AND… AND… YOU SUCK!"

With that, he flopped back against the hospital bed pillows, with his arms crossed sulkily.

The two adults shared another 'look'. One that stated 'Oh boy, this is going to be a fun time…'.

_------------------------------------------------------------------_

An hour later, Harry, who was sedated with a spell for his cramps and a large bar of chocolate, sat with Ron and Hermione in the common room, very much alone, since the testy Harry had screamed at all of the other Gryffindors for things such as 'YOU BROKE MY FUCKING QUILL', to 'DON'T BLINK AT ME LIKE THAT!'

"So," Ron said, after Harry had explained the situation to them, "you drank a potion with Merlin knows what was in it, and now it's made you all… all…"

"Schizophrenic?" Hermione supplied.

"Wonky," Ron corrected.

Harry nodded, surveying the chocolate bar like it was the greatest thing since pickled newt eyes.

"And Professor Snape said it would take a week, possibly more to find an antidote?" Hermione asked, trying not to notice the drool that was leaking from the corner of Harry's mouth.

Harry nodded again, and began tearing at the bar of sugary goodness. It was a very disturbing sight, to see The Boy Who Lived go at a chocolate bar like that, and Ron and Hermione would have that image burned into their minds forever.

Ron gulped, finally able to tear his eyes away and look into the fire. "So your just going to wake up every day and have a different personality?"

"Mmhmm," Harry grunted.

Ron and Hermione shared a 'look' that stated 'Oh boy, this is going to be a fun time…'

--------------------------------------------------

So the rest of the day continued, as Harry went to class normally, with only a few more of his 'scenes', one of which included Crabbe and Goyle, a potted plant, and a nasty hex, which had the two thugs running around with their heads on fire.

At bedtime, the Gryffindor sixth year boy's were all in their beds, saying goodnight.

"So next morning you'll be a new person, Harry?" Dean Thomas asked, crawling into his bed.

"I guess…" Harry replied, taking off his glasses and putting them on the nightstand.

"Good. Well, you better be, because I don't know if I can-" Seamus said offhandedly, but was interrupted by a furious Harry.

"_What?_ What were you going to say, Finnigan?" Harry hissed, giving Seamus a death-glare.

"Nothing!" Seamus gulped, turning quickly around and jumping into bed.

"Didn't _think_ so," Harry sniffed.

"Hey, maybe tomorrow you'll be something wicked, like-like a Cassanova or something," Ron said, snorting. He saw the look he was about to get from Harry though, and quickly disguised his snorting as a hacking cough.

The boys eventually fell asleep all glad and hex-free.

The next morning, Ron awoke to find something utterly disturbing in the bed next to his. He really doubted after that that Harry was going to wake up with a charming personality, ready to swoop the girls off their feet.

Because Harry Potter was curled in a ball, one thumb in his mouth, with his other arm awkwardly placed, as if it were holding an invisible teddy bear.


	3. The One With The Banana Cat!

**Chapter Three**

Harry with PMS was not fun. No one in the castle, with the exception of the teachers, was safe from Harry's wrath. But, it wasn't _too_ bad. At least they hadn't gotten a suicidal Harry or, Merlin forbid, a Voldemort Harry.

If only they had all prayed not to get a wreaking havoc, loud, screaming, crazy, out-of-control sugar high kid in Harry's body.

Of course, he was loud. And not just 'yelling at you' loud, but 'yelling everything he said' loud.

You could definitely tell Harry was near you if you went a little deaf from the constant 'WHAT'S THAT?', or a 'WHY?'. The latter seemed to be Harry's favorite. At first, he did it because he was truly curious. For example, Hermione would tell Harry that they had to get down to breakfast. Harry then asked in his high-pitched voice, 'WHY?' because he didn't really understand why he couldn't stay up in the boy's dorm coloring on the wall with some crayons he had found.

But then he learned the power of that little three letter word.

His four year old brain found out that no one- even Hermione, liked being questioned. So, now conversations with Harry would sound like this:

Ron: Harry, stop putting mashed bananas in Mrs. Norris' fur.

Harry: WHY?

Ron: Because Mr. Filch will be mad.

Harry: WHY?

Ron: Because Mrs. Norris is Mr. Filch's cat.

Harry: Oh.

Ron: Yeah. So, can you stop now?

Harry: WHY?

Hermione always had to step in at this point, because Ron would turn on his heel and walk away, muttering something that sounded like 'I'm gonna kill him'.

Hermione: Harry, put the bananas down before we get in trouble.

Harry: Okay.

Then, Harry would take the bowl of mashed bananas that he was spooning onto Mrs. Norris' back, and turn it upside down, so all the banana glop splatted down. Though, not on the floor. Nope. That sticky goop landed right on the mangy cat's head.

Of course, Filch would choose that moment to come creeping around the corner.

What followed that particular instance was a lot of yelling, some hisses from the gooey cat, and pleading from Hermione. It all ended when Harry, who had been sitting quietly on the floor, leaped up and kicked poor Mr. Filch.

Now, let me remind you that it was only Harry's _personality_ that had changed. He still had the body of a sixteen year old boy. A somewhat muscular sixteen year old boy. Add that together with the four year old mind of a very mischievous boy and you had one really hard kick.

Only Harry didn't have quite the aim he was known for, due to his current state, so he missed.

Bet you can guess where his foot landed.

Ouch.

So Hermione pulled Harry away quickly, leaving Mr. Filch doubled over next to his banana-y cat, who Harry had tied to a suit of armor.

And that was the mildest case of the day.

At breakfast, Harry managed to make a first year Hufflepuff cry by chucking scrambled eggs at her from across the room, then running at her with a jar of maple syrup and pouring it on her head.

After two classes, Harry, Ron and Hermione were dismissed from the rest of the day's classes due to Harry's 'disruptions'. Most of which involved various sized spit balls aimed at random people around the room.

At lunch, Harry managed to surprise Seamus enough to cause the heating charm Seamus was practicing malfunction enough to blow up a chunk of the table.

When it was (finally) dinner, Hermione and Ron collapsed at the Gryffindor table, exhausted from having to play babysitter all day.

"I never thought I'd actually say this to anyone, but I think Harry is worse than Fred and George," Ron said, warily keeping an eye on the squirming boy next to him.

"WHY?" Harry shrieked, giggling mercilessly as he poked Ron in the shoulder.

Ron chose to believe that ignoring really is bliss.

Actually, they should change that saying to ignorance is much pain, because when Ron didn't answer him, Harry kept poking Ron, each time harder than the last, so eventually Ron was jostled into Neville, who was next to him.

"WHY?" –poke- "WHY?" –poke- "WHY?" –poke-

This went on until Ron finally yelled, "STOP IT, YOU WANKER!"

The hall immediately grew silent as everyone turned to stare at the commotion.

Harry paused, looking at Ron with wide eyes. Wide eyes most kids use right before they start to cry.

Harry opened his mouth.

Everyone held their breath.

Harry then giggled.

"I'm rubber, you're glue, whatever you say bounces of me and sticks to YOU!" Harry cried, sticking his tongue out at Ron and blowing a raspberry.

Everyone was silent. That is, until Ginny- who was turning red with trying to contain her laughter- let out a snort.

The whole room burst out laughing, while Harry turned back to his dinner and shoveled in more corn.

Halfway through dinner a shadow fell over the Trio.

Severus Snape was towering over them, his gaze directed at Harry.

Oooh, this was going to be fun!

"Potter, Weasley, Granger." He nodded curtly at each of them. "I've made a little progress with the antidote, and I _hope_ it will be ready by the end of the week," he said, somewhat sarcastically.

"Thank you so much, Professor," Hermione said, brightening up at the news. Once Harry was back to normal, everyone would be able to sleep with both eyes closed.

Snape was about to turn back around and walk back up to the staff table when Harry said to him loudly, "You smell funny!"

Snape sneered. "As do you, insolent child."

Harry, who wasn't quite sure what that last part meant, but who knew that it was an insult, grinned mockingly up at him and retorted with, "I know you are, but what am I?"

Snape chose not to deign that with an answer, but a voice which sounded like Draco Malfoy's hissed, "You're an ass, Potter", which earned several titters from various students.

Harry cried loudly, "OOOO! Malfoy said a _bad word_!"

----

When Harry turned in for the night, he asked for a bed time story, so Ron told him the wizard fairy tale Wilfreida and the Three Dancing Trolls.

Halfway through, Harry fell asleep, clutching his imaginary teddy bear.

Little did he know that tomorrow, catastrophe would strike.

tobecontinuedtobecontinuedtobecontinued

_A/N: Yay! A longer chapter!_

_Reviews are awesome! All reviewers get a STICK! Yes, you heard right, you're very own STICK! Who needs cookies?!? Not when you have a handy STICK to poke non-reviewers with!_

_Also, if you have any more ideas for what Harry should be next, let me know, and I'll throw in a free ROCK!! Yes, that's right! With one review and a suggestion, you not only get a STICK, but a ROCK! _

_This is a limited time offer, so PLEASE HURRY!_


	4. Mrs Norris' Long Lost Cousin

Chapter Four

It was pitch black in the boy's dormitory when Ron woke up in the middle of the night. Of course, that made sense since it was, well, _night_.

Ron fumbled to open the drapes around his bed and hurried to the adjoining bathroom trying not to wake anyone, especially the sleeping infant/Harry.

Only…

After he had relieved himself, Ron couldn't help but wonder if Harry _was_ still an infant. After all, it was three o'clock in the morning. Maybe the change had already taken place.

Harry's four-poster bed loomed in front of him. If Ron did pull aside the hangings and infant-Harry was revealed, all would be fine, for now. But then again, if he were to pull aside the curtains and unleash the sight of a- _shudder-_ demon-Harry, then he would have a headache that would last for a couple hours longer than usual.

The silky red hangings around the frame taunted him- '_Open me! Open me! Oppppeeennnn mmeeeeeeee!'_

"Shut up, you!" Ron snapped.

_'Open me, you big oaf!'_ the drapes replied.

Ron's gaze snapped from the tiny sliver of a crack between the curtains to the fabric itself. "Who are you calling an oaf, you measly pile of rags?!" He hissed, forgetting all of the logic that stated 'Fabric cannot talk'.

'_I'm calling _you_ one, obviously. Just wait until I-_'

"Until you _what_?" Ron countered.

Now, in Ron's defense, it _was_ three in the morning and he wasn't fully awake. It wasn't like he spent all of his time regularly talking to big pieces of cloth… It was a one time thing.

Plus, the curtains started it.

Actually, it was quite possible that Ron was having a very intelligent argument with Harry's drapes, since it was Hogwarts, after all. But we'll never know, because in that moment, without waiting for the drapes' retort, Ron reached out and yanked them open, to reveal…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

As in, Harry wasn't there.

As in, Ron was screwed. Big time.

-------------------------------------------

10 minutes later finds Ron crumpled on the floor while Hermione paces frantically around him, muttering something about kidnappings, murders, and decapitation.

The crumpled Ron is due to the fact that he had just tried to run up the stairs to the girl's dormitory forgetting about the whole slide-factor, and the frantic Hermione is due to the fact that- oh yeah- HARRY IS MISSING!

"Are you _sure_ he wasn't in his bed?" Hermione asked again, turning sharply on her toes and pacing back the way she came.

"Oh, you know what Hermione? I forgot to check there!" Ron said sarcastically. He got back on his feet.

Hermione stopped suddenly. "Ron! That should be the FIRST place that you look! I can't believe that— Oh," she stopped when she saw his 'Are-you-kidding-me' look, "right. Sarcasm. Got it."

The portrait hole opened and Dumbledore strode in.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger. Pleasure to see you both at this late hour. It appears we have a little problem, does it not?" Dumbledore smiled like he didn't have a care in the world, and like THE BOY WHO LIVED WASN'T MISSING!

There was something that sounded like 'No dip, Sherlock' that came from somewhere near Ron's vicinity, but it could just have been those damn curtains again. Yes, that was it. Probably the curtains.

"A _little_ problem? A LITTLE problem?!" Hermione shrieked, forgetting herself at the moment. "Have you forgotten that HARRY IS MISSING?!?!"

Dumbledore's eyes widened behind his half-moon spectacles. "What? The boy is missing?"

Ron looked exasperated. "Yes! What did you think we were talking about?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "I thought you were talking about the fact that I seemed to have misplaced my favorite tea cozy… Quite a shame, really. It had the most adorable little pink rabbits frolicking about on it. Quite a shame… But you say Harry Potter is missing?"

There is a time in every witch's and wizard's life that they have the thought that Dumbledore might perhaps, possibly,_ maybe_ be the slightest bit off his rocker. This was that time for Hermione.

"Ron! The map!" she cried, smacking herself on the head. "I can't believe we forgot the map!"

"Map? You need a map?" Dumbledore asked, missing the part where Hermione and Ron where ignoring him. "I happen to have plenty of maps in my office. Perhaps you would like to know the way to Never Never Land? Narnia? The Shire? Oh, I have a marvelous map that has little pop-ups and everything that shows the way to the Shire! Oh! And I have-"

Dumbledore continued on (something about midgets and rare pieces of jewelry) and didn't seem to notice that Ron and Hermione were no where to be seem anymore. They had raced up the steps to the boys dormitory and were already rooting through Harry's trunk by the time Dumbledore started in about someone named Beagle or something…

"Found it!" Ron cried, holding up a tattered piece of parchment. He grabbed his wand and tapped it, muttering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"

…

Nothing happened.

He tapped it again and repeated the passwords.

Nothing.

"Oh god, Ron," Hermione moaned, "you've gone and killed it!"

"Wait, hold on…" he flipped the parchment over. "This isn't the map!"

"Yes it is," Hermione insisted.

"Then why does it have a list of '101 Ways to Kill Malfoy' written on the back?" Ron questioned, thrusting the paper in front of her face.

"Oh."

They dove into Harry's trunk again, digging deeper and deeper into the never-ending pile of junk Harry had collected until, at the very, very bottom, they found it.

"I solemnly— _huff huff—_ swear that I— _huff huff— _am up to –_huff—_ no good," Ron panted.

Ink started to spiral across the blank page, drawing in every hall, room and staircase there was in Hogwarts.

They checked the entire map looking for Harry's name, while trying really, really hard not to think about why Professor Flitwick was in Professor Sprout's chambers in four o'clock in the morning.

Finally, after going through every dot on the paper, they found Harry's little dot in the owlery.

"What in heavens-?" Ron breathed, as they watched the dot labeled 'Harry Potter' move around all over the owlrey. It zigged, then it zagged, running around in little circles as though Harry was dancing around the room.

"What is he doing?!" Hermione asked, bewildered.

"I dunno," Ron replied, "but whatever it is, it doesn't look good."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione and Ron burst through the owlery doors some time later, after having sprinted across the castle in order to prevent Harry from doing another catastrophic thing. Owls hooted indignantly, though not at Ron and Hermione, but at a Harry-shaped form that lurked in the shadows of the room.

"Harry?" Hermione asked cautiously, inching into the room.

The figure in the corner barely even glanced at them.

"Harry…" Hermione repeated.

Then, without warning, Harry sprang up off the floor and leaped at a muddy-colored owl that was sitting high up on its perch. With his hand in a fist, he swatted at the bird, just falling short. The owl screeched and flew to another perch in a flurry of brown wings.

Hermione, who had shrieked and stumbled backwards at the sudden movement, hissed to Ron, "What is he doing?"

Ron shrugged, and continued to back up slowly, desperate to put as much space between him and the spazzed-out Harry.

Harry was on his hands and knees now, crawling stealthily, moving closer to the perch that the owl had flown to. Carefully, Hermione took a step closer to him.

"Harry?" she called softly.

This time Harry paused and cocked his head towards Hermione's direction. There was a tension here so thick, that it could have been cut with a teddy-bear. And let me remind you, that a teddy bear is not the sharpest of objects… Unless you have a teddy-bear made out of razor blades. Then I fear for your safety. And your sanity.

Finally, this teddy-bear-cuttable tension was broken (though not by a fluff-filled inanimate object), but by Harry himself, who said the most terrifying word he could have said at that moment.

So terrifying in fact, that Hermione almost fainted.

So terrifying in fact, that Ron actually _did_ faint.

Harry blinked his eyes slowly, and crouched in front of Hermione. He opened his mouth, and out it came.

"Meow."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Yes! It really is another chapter from me! No, I didn't get eaten up by the boogie monster! **

**I am so so so so so sorry for not updating sooner… And I totally would have made this chapter longer, but I didn't want you guys to wait another second! (Added on to the months and months I KNOW you have anxiously been waiting… har de har har).**

**But here it is: Another chapter! Ok, so a bad one at that, but at least I wrote! That has to count for something…**

**I PROMISE I will write as soon as I can… I would make excuses here about why I didn't update sooner, but we all know that they would have been lies. Though in my defense, I DID have a lot of school-stuff, like exams (bleh). **

**Again, the special promotion is still up for your rock/piece of string, if you leave a review! Just a teensy one! **

**I love you all to pieces! (Whoa… just realized how creepy an expression THAT is… Why would you love someone to itty-bitty fragments? Wouldn't that like, oh, I dunno, KILL THEM or something? So I guess I DON'T love you all to pieces… because then you would be dead. And let's hope that's not true…)**

**-Psycho!**


	5. To Lick, Or Not To Lick?

Chapter Five

"SNNNNAAAPPPPPEEEEEE!!"

"SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSNNNNNNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEEEE!!" Ron hollered, running as fast as he could through the corridors. It was a pretty amusing sight, what with Ron's arms waving frantically above his head not to mention the ever-growing bruise on his head from where he smacked it as he fainted onto the floor.

"SSSSSNNNAAA-" he was cut off when he rounded the corner to Snape's chambers and ran right into the professor himself.

"What," Snape drawled, "is the meaning of this?"

Ron panted heavily, leaning against the wall for support. He babbled something incoherent.

"Harry is a gnat?" Snape translated. "Well, Mr. Weasley, I happen to agree with you there, but I cannot fathom why you woke up the entire castle to point out such an obvious-"

Ron shook his head vigorously, cutting him off. He mumbled something again that Snape couldn't catch due to the heaving breaths Ron was taking.

"… You think I'm fat?!" Snape was glaring now. "Well, Mr. Weasley, we'll just see-"

"CAT!" Ron finally managed to get out. "Cat, cat, cat!"

"Oh, so now I'm a cat. Very good observation skills I see you have there-"

"Harry. Is. A. CAT!" Ron bellowed, nearly falling over from the exertion.

Snape took a moment to asses the situation. Finally, he said very slowly, "No, Weasley, I do think in fact, that Potter is a _real_ boy…"

At last Ron caught his breath. "The potion is making Harry act like a cat. He's in the owlrey now, making cat noises and doing cat things. Harry. Is. A. Cat," Ron ground out.

Snape blinked, straightening up. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?" With that, he whisked by Ron and headed up to the owlrey.

--

"Catnip," Snape declared a short while later, after examining Harry from a distance.

"Mreow?"

"What?" Hermione translated, warily watching Harry, who was pacing on his hands and knees, his butt twitching in the air in what had to be the mimic of a tail-flicker.

"It has to be the catnip," Snape explained. "The catnip we were using in our potion must have influenced the… mind-set that Potter took."

Hermione looked intrigued. "Really?"

"No," Snape replied. "Stupid girl. What a silly thought… potion ingredients influencing Potter. Haven't you learned anything from me?" He gave a dark chuckle.

As Hermione scowled, Ron gave a moan of disgust. "Eww. What is he doing?!" he jabbed a finger at Harry, who was crouching in the corner of the owlrey, his mouth open as he licked his hand and then ran it through his unruly hair continuously. Surprisingly, this did not have the same cute-ness factor as when an actual cat cleaned itself.

"Erm. I think he's… eating himself?" Hermione ventured, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Harry suddenly paused, with his hand halfway to his hanging tongue. He stood perfectly still for a moment, with only his wide eyes moving back and forth, first to look at Hermione, then Professor Snape, then Ron. Then at the open door.

Hermione was the first to realize what Harry was planning to do, but she was a second too late. Harry leaped from his crouched position and bolted for the open door on all fours. However, Harry's body was not attuned to his present brain, and did not adjust well to running on both his feet and his hands, so his mad dash was somewhat hindered and he managed to look like he was having a mini-seizure as he made his way to the door.

However, his awkward run succeeded in halting the three other people in the room as they stared in awe at his bizarre/horrific flailing. It was because of this that he got out the door and was halfway down the steps to the hallway before Professor Snape reacted.

There was an audible 'smack' as his hand came up to meet his face.

--

When the three raced downstairs to find an empty hallway, they decided to branch out. Snape took the path that would lead to the Great Hall, Hermione would head towards Gryffindor Tower and Ron would go down to the dungeons. It wasn't long before word got out and soon half the school was in search of Harry Potter.

They had to give Cat-Harry credit though. Even with half of the student body and a few of the professors searching, they had turned up nothing after an hour.

After two hours, half of the students searching gave up and headed to their own rooms, exhausted.

It took three hours— _three_— for Ron to realize that the blank piece of parchment in his pocket might possibly help him in his quest. After a quick 'IsolemnlyswearIamuptonogood', he was racing back deeper into the dungeons, where he immediately spotted Harry lazily draped on top of a rather large statue of a dragon.

Ron slowed his steps as he approached, warily keeping an eye on Harry, who was in return gazing at him with half-lidded eyes, studying him carefully.

When Ron got close enough, he called softly, "Heeerreee, Harry. Come here. Come down, Harry."

Harry did what could only be interpreted as a tail flick (in actuality, all he had done was a butt-twitch), but otherwise did not move from his perch.

Ron felt a little silly, talking to Harry as though he were a cat, but continued patting his knees and crooning at him. "Heeeerreee, Harryharryharry. Come to Ron. Come on. You can do it, yes you can! Yeesss you can! Yyyyyyeeessss you can!"

Harry's head snapped up suddenly, and Ron cheered inside. "Yes, you can do it Harry! Come here!"

But Harry wasn't moving, just staring at a spot behind Ron. That was when Ron heard the snickers.

He turned slowly, only to be faced with Draco Malfoy. As Ron's faced turned red, Malfoy burst into hysteric laughter, doubled over and clutching at his sides.

"P-p-potter! Cat! Ahaha! Merlin, that's just… ahaha! Potter's an ittle-bity pussy! Ahaha!" Malfoy wiped away the tears that were forming in his eyes, still guffawing.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron shot angrily, but when that didn't affect Malfoy, who was still laughing, he turned back to Harry.

He was just about to call up to Harry again, but it was then that Harry got up gracefully and poised himself to leap off of the statue. He jumped down and not-so-gracefully crash-landed into the hard stone floor, but recovered.

Cautiously, Ron watched as Harry made his way on his hands and knees towards Malfoy, who was still obliviously convulsing in laughter. As he noticed Harry nearing however, his laughter dried up.

"What's he doing, Weseal?" Malfoy asked warily as Harry made his way closer still.

"I, uh, don't know," Ron replied. But he knew that whatever was coming next could not be good.

"Weasel?" Malfoy's voice was getting awfully high-pitched now. "What is that noise he's making?"

Harry, who was within a few feet of Malfoy now, was emitting a deep, strange noise that seem to come deep from his throat.

Ron was concerned. "Malfoy, what are you doing? He's choking! Stop choking him!" Ron came at him, but stopped as he listened closer to Harry. "Wait… I think… I think he's _purring_!"

Malfoy drew his eyes away from the advancing Harry to shoot Ron a bewildered look. His gaze went back down after a second however, and he swallowed. "Uh, Weasel. He's coming closer now. I think- I think he's going to attack me! Call him off, Weasel! Call him off!" He made shooing motions with his hands at Harry, but seemed rooted to the spot.

Harry was closing in the distance between them though, and before Malfoy knew it, Harry was brushing up against his legs. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"What's he doing?!" his voice was a barely audible squeak.

"I dunno," Ron murmured, careful not to make any sudden movements.

Harry was now shuffling around Malfoy's legs, making lazy circles.

"Get him off of me!" Malfoy hissed, but Ron made no motion to do so.

Suddenly, Malfoy gave a strangled yelp as Harry tried to squeeze his head through the narrow gap between the Slytherin's legs, causing him to tumbled backwards. Just as quickly, Harry had crawled onto Malfoy's chest, his head hovering above the other boys. The way Harry was positioned, he had one knee embedded in Malfoy's chest while the other one was resting on the floor. One of Harry's hands had landed on the Slytherin's shoulder, causing his shoulder blade to dig painfully into the ground, and Harry's other hand and landed on the ground next to Malfoy's face.

Malfoy could not hold it in any longer. "GET HIM OFF ME! GETHIMOFFGETHIMOFFGETHIMOFF!" He was squealing now, not realizing that his bad ass Malfoy 'I'm-so-evil-I-eat-Crucio-for-breakfast-while-kicking-puppies' image was disappearing faster than he could say 'Avada Kadavra'.

He was this close to losing it. _This_ close. It was when he felt something warm, fairly rough, and very wet brush against his cheek that he was pushed over the edge.

"AARRRRRRGGHHHHHHH!" he screamed, flailing his arms and legs around, which did little to deter Harry, who was still licking Malfoy's cheek.

With one giant bucking motion, Malfoy threw Harry off of him, then curled into the fetal position, moaning softly.

Harry, who hand landed on his side and was mewling pitifully, wriggled a bit before popping back up onto four legs, glaring contemptuously at Malfoy in the way that only cats do.

After having recovered from the revolting sight of seeing Harry lick Malfoy, Ron moved shakily towards Harry, conjuring a soft leash around Harry's neck to prevent him from running away. Herding Harry towards the Gryffindor Common Room to spend the remainder of the day, Ron shot a look back at Malfoy, who was still convulsing in horror on the floor.

Ron grinned. At least one good thing had come out of this fiasco: Ron would always have the sound of Malfoy screaming like a girl in his head to play over and over again at his will.

--

**Wow. Another chapter. **

**I think I surprised even myself.**

**Many apologies for the… let's see… five month and one day delay in updating and the not-so-funny and short chapter…**

**Now, I'm not going to make any more promises I can't keep (sorry about THAT too!) but I will try really, really, really, really hard to get another chapter up! )**

**Sorry to say, the offer for the rock/stick/string has expired, but a new offer has just come up! Yes, now if you review you will receive an imaginary RUBBER BAND! :insert gasps of shock here:**

**So, hurry and review! **

**Lots of peace, love, all that good stuff (and some Oreos)!**

**-Psycho!**


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